


Paradise Lost (And Found)

by TheOrgasmicSeke



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Croatoan/Endverse (Supernatural), Drinking to Cope, Drunken Kissing, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:20:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22043215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOrgasmicSeke/pseuds/TheOrgasmicSeke
Summary: Being shoved into 2014 against his will leaves Dean with a lot of questions and a lot of new choices. Good thing Castiel is around to help, even if he's completely different from the angel Dean knows back in 2009.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 4
Kudos: 55





	Paradise Lost (And Found)

**Author's Note:**

> Be gentle. I've been a SPN fan since season three and I've written fanfic since I was 12 (currently 30) so I've been around here for a long time. I've just never... wrote SPN fanfic so here I am, giving it a shot. You might see more from me and you might not! I'm not done with my other fandoms if that's what you're worried about. This is just my tentative step into SPN fanfic and hopefully I'll gain a better grasp of these characters the more I write them. I also may have messed around with Canon a little bit so forgive me for that. For now, please enjoy!

Dean has traveled through time before. It wasn’t the best experience in the world and his stomach still twists at the memories but he’s done this before. Except that time, he had a little more warning. Not much warning, seeing as Castiel didn’t really understand how a human body worked or the type of preparation Dean might need before being flung through fucking space and time. But, it was something. 

This time? No warning. He woke up in the same place he fell asleep in only it was different. Really different. Five years in the future different and Dean had scrambled to figure out what the hell was going on. Just because he’d done this time traveling thing before didn’t mean he was prepared for what he had to deal with. 

Last time, Castiel wanted him to ‘fix it’. Or stop whatever it was from happening and though Dean did his absolute best, it didn’t fucking work. Wasn’t supposed to work. He was never supposed to change anything. He’s still a little sore about all of that. 

But this time around? He’s meant to just observe because it’s the future and he can’t change what’s already been done. Not in this universe anyway. He can only watch and maybe, hopefully, learn from his future-self’s mistakes. 

It’s down right trippy seeing yourself face to face. Even now, glancing over at himself sitting at the worn wooden table in an equally worn wooden chair nursing a foggy glass of whiskey makes his fucking head spin. It’s one thing to look at yourself in a mirror; it’s a whole other thing to see yourself in full HD 4D. 

It’s him but it’s  _ not _ him. It’s his green eyes, his lightly freckled skin, his scars, his short hair, his collapsed hands but it’s  _ not him _ at the same time. It’s him five years in the future if he continues down the path he’s chosen and Dean’s not sure he likes who he’s become. It boggles his fucking mind that he straight up killed a guy in cold blood in front of his people, infected or not. 

Whoever this Dean is, whatever he’s been through, he’s real fucking broken and Dean refuses to ever become that. 

He gets it. He gets why this Dean is broken. He gets that losing Sam… Fuck, just thinking about it makes bile curl up Dean’s throat. He’s lost Sam before and obviously didn’t survive that. He went to  _ hell _ for that. So he can sort of imagine what might happen to him if he lost Sam again.

In fact, he doesn’t need to imagine it. He can fucking see it sitting across the table from him. There’s little emotion on this Dean’s face. His eyes are closed off to the rest of the world and Dean knows that look. He figured it out hours ago. Future-Dean isn’t going into this battle with the intention of surviving. It’s a fucking suicide mission. Killing the Devil, killing  _ Sam _ . Future-Dean isn’t coming back from that and everyone knows it. 

This is a future Dean can not allow to happen. He may be stubborn but he’s not  _ stupid _ . Future-Dean may have begged him to say yes to Michael, and he may even know himself well enough to know Dean will never say yes. But what future-Dean might not realize, is that Dean has already figured out where he’s gone wrong. 

It’s not the lesson Zackariah wanted him to learn. But it’s a lesson he needed nonetheless. Now, he only has to get through the next couple hours before Zackariah decides to pull him back to his own time. He considered praying to Castiel but… Well…

Castiel isn’t really _ Castiel  _ anymore in this universe. Dean doesn’t know  _ what _ he is and he sure as hell doesn't know what to do about it. He’s pretty sure he doesn’t even want to do anything about it. This Castiel isn’t  _ his _ Cas and yet Dean can’t seem to separate them in his head as much as he should. 

It’s best if he doesn’t think too much about it. 

Future-Dean’s idea of spending his last night alive seems to be just sitting there, drowning himself in a bottle of whiskey and fiddling with The Colt with this far off look in his eyes. They’ve been sitting here for over an hour now, no conversation between them because there’s nothing to say. When Morning comes, they’re going to leave to kill the devil. They’re going to kill their brother. Future-Dean seems to have come to terms with that but current Dean isn’t doing so well with all of this. 

Sam said yes? Sam? His Sam? Little Sammy? Saying yes to Lucifer? Hard to believe but Dean knew his future self wasn’t lying to him. He knew his lying face and the pain hidden in those green depths was too fragile to dismiss. He was going to kill his brother, save the world and end the mess he created. 

Five years.  _ Fuck _ . Dean hisses softly and sinks in his uncomfortable chair to rub a hand over his face, scratching over the stubble that’s built up over a day or two. It takes him five years to finally find The Colt. Five years where the world completely falls apart and the Croatoan virus takes over. Five years where he doesn’t stop fighting because Dean never stops fighting but he’s been doing nothing but  _ losing _ . All because he refused to say yes to Michael. All because… He turned Sam away. 

Dean knows what he has to do when he gets back to his own time. He wishes he could go back now. He doesn’t want to do this. He doesn’t want to see his brother. He  _ can’t _ . The thought alone makes his chest so tight he can barely breathe. He gets why future him wants to bring him along. He gets that this is something he needs to see but  _ fuck _ he doesn’t want it. 

The longer he sits there the more his skin starts to crawl. He needs to move. He needs to punch something. There’s an empty glass on the table in front of him that hasn’t been filled up since his first glass. Drinking usually helps but for once, Dean doesn’t feel like drinking. Because if he really starts, he’s not going to be able to stop. Like how his future self is currently ass deep in whiskey. His gaze is still steady but Dean can’t stand to look at him anymore. 

He won’t become that man. He refuses. That man is broken and unfixable. Dean might be far from a perfect human being but he’s still  _ human _ . The man across the table from him doesn’t even look human to him anymore. That’s a truly broken man right there. 

His chair scratches against the dirty floor when he gets to his feet and his future self glances up at him. “I need some air.” He explains in a mumble. His future self just rolls one shoulder in a shrug and tilts his glass to his lips once more. 

“Should get some sleep.” His voice is more rough than Dean is used to hearing. Either from the whiskey or the emotion he keeps locked up tight. Either way, Dean has a hard time connecting this man to himself even if they’re supposed to be the same person. 

“So should you.” He points out, giving the mostly empty whiskey bottle a pointed look. “Big day tomorrow and all.”

Future-Dean just rolls his eyes and knocks his empty glass against the handle of The Colt resting on the table directly in front of him. He refuses to let it out of his sight and Dean understands why but the level of obsessive he’s become is almost scary. 

He won’t become this man. He  _ won’t. _

“I’ll be fine.” Future-Dean just tilts his head slightly in a nod.

Dean shakes his head because this man is far from fine but there’s nothing he can do about it now. They share a knowing look between them, like future-Dean knows exactly what he is thinking and even seems to agree with him, before Dean shoves away from the table and goes for the door. 

He doesn’t bother casting a last glance at his future self before he steps out onto the small deck around the cabin. The air is thick with tension, like the entire camp knows what comes with the sun, but it’s not too cold and not too thick with humidity. There’s a heavy scent of nature in the air, and a hint of death that makes Dean shiver.

They’re safe out here; he knows that. But ever since Future-Dean gave him his weapons back, Dean’s been packing. It’s not much. He’d been asleep when Zackariah threw him five years into the future but he had still been packing. A silver knife in his boot and another knife attached to belt. It’s not much but it’s enough for the time being. 

The camp is mostly quiet, like the calm before the storm. Future-Dean’s people seem ready to follow him to the ends of the universe but they also don’t look too confident about all of this. Not that Dean can blame them. It’s a fucking suicide mission and they must know that. He wonders what his future self must have done to convince all these people to follow him to their deaths. 

Dean’s been alone before more times than he can count. Back when Sam was off at Stanford and Dad was off hunting on his own, Dean was alone. It wasn’t that bad. He thought he hunted better alone. But then he got Sammy back and quickly discovered that having back up,  _ having Sam _ , was a hell of a lot better than hunting alone. 

Then he lost Sam. 

Even then, he wasn’t alone. Bobby was there. Bobby was there trying to convince him not to do something so fucking  _ stupid _ and Dean did it anyway. 

And then… there was hell. 

Now  _ that _ was a type of loneliness Dean never wants to experience again. They don’t call it hell for nothing. It truly is hell and Dean will forever be grateful to Castiel for dragging him out. 

But now, right this very moment, Dean is alone. He’s alone in a way he’s never been before. There was always someone he could talk to. A fellow hunter, Sam, Bobby,  _ Cas _ . But here, in this place, Dean doesn’t belong. There’s no one to talk to but himself and that’s too fucking trippy for him to even want to deal with. Besides, his future-self is too busy drowning in self-loathing to even attempt to hold some type of conversation. 

There’s Chuck. Dean bets Chuck wouldn’t mind talking for a little while but Dean doesn’t even know what to say to him. I’m sorry? I fucked up? I won’t let this happen? He’s sure Chuck doesn’t want to hear it. 

And then, there’s Castiel.

Dean’s hand curls over his left shoulder, right over the scar Castiel left on his body when he pulled him out of hell. It doesn’t hurt, never has, but it’s a constant reminder of the connection he has with an angel he never expected to have. 

For a while there, Dean wasn’t sure he could trust Castiel. But then, he gave up heaven for them. He broke rank, disobeyed orders and is currently on the run from the angels just like Dean. Cas is a friend Dean didn’t know he needed or wanted and yet… somehow… 

This Castiel might not be  _ his _ Cas but he’s some version of the angel he’s come to trust. He’s stuck by Dean’s side five years into the future and surely that must mean something, right?

The decision is made for him pretty easily. Dean heaves a sigh and shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans, shuffling over the wooden porch to descend the stairs. Castiel’s cabin isn’t that far from Dean’s and he can see some light flickering from lit candles in the open windows from here. 

It takes Dean not even two minutes to reach Castiel’s cabin and as he climbs the stairs, he finds his heart squeezing in his throat. He’s not sure what he’s doing but he needs someone to talk to and Castiel is his only option. He’d also like to know what happened to the angel in the last five years. He knows all the angels left except him and Dean is curious as to what effect that had on him. 

Dean considers knocking but here’s no door to Castiel’s cabin, just a curtain of beads that Dean rolls his eyes at. He doesn’t hear anything from inside but he still doesn't want to just barge in when Castiel might be… Doing what? Having an orgy? Fucking hell, what was that even  _ about? _

“You going to keep standing out there or are you going to come in?” Castiel’s voice is rough, almost sleep rough but Angel’s don’t sleep and Dean finds his feet pinned to the floor at being caught. 

It takes a deep breath for Dean to regain control over himself and he pushes through the curtain, the beads clicking together from the movement. The inside of the cabin is mostly dim but there are flickering candles spread about. He spots Castiel lounging on that large bed at the back of the cabin, the covers still made perfectly. He’s surrounded by an assortment of more candles that light the book he currently has resting on his lap, that he must have been reading before he sensed Dean hanging around outside his door like a fucking teenage girl scared to be turned away. 

Castiel looks just like he did the last time Dean saw him a few hours ago in Future-Dean’s cabin where he was briefed about the plan. He looks relaxed, lunging back against the wall, his ankles crossed with his legs stretched out and a glass of  _ something _ in the hand that’s not brushing over the open book in his lap. 

His gaze isn’t as calculating as always but it’s still there, fitting the pieces together. His blue eyes are as intense as always, flickering in the candle light and he’s let his beard get a little scruffy. It’s not a bad look on him, honestly. But Dean’s always thought Castiel, or rather the vessel he choose, was rather handsome. And  _ that _ is a thought that’s gonna stop right there. 

“Hello Dean.” Castiel’s voice is as deep as expected and the familiarity of it makes Dean’s skin prickle. 

“Hey Cas.” Dean shuffles across the floor toward him, glancing around the dimly lit cabin to assure the angel is alone. 

“You look troubled.” Castiel states the obvious and gently closes his book, the pages worn and the leather old. He places it aside on the table beside the bed and presses the glass to his lips to down the rest of whatever is inside of it. Dean crinkles his nose and watches as Castiel places the empty glass to the side too. There’s a tall bottle half-full of something turquoise on the table beside his book and Dean wonders what the hell that could be. Castiel notices his gaze and a faint smile curls to his full lips as he picks up the bottle and wiggles it in Dean’s direction. “Drink?”

“What is it?” He’s moving closer to the bed before he thinks too much about it. He’s still not even sure why he’s here. He wanted to talk to someone, maybe take his mind off what’s going on and Castiel seemed to be the best option. 

“Homemade absinthe.” Castiel tells him simply and grabs another glass from the shelf under the side table and starts pouring them both a serving. “It does wonders. Numbs the body and the mind.” His lips are still curled in a smile Dean’s not used to seeing from him. His Castiel doesn't smile all that much. It’s a nice smile. He wonders if he could get his Castiel to smile like that. “I quite like the feeling.”

He offers a glass to Dean who takes it to sniff at the contents. His throat nearly gags at the strong scent and he eyes Castiel suspiciously. “Since when do you drink?”

Dean watches as Castiel brings the glass to his lips, tilts his head back and swallows a good sip all while watching Dean with that same knowing, calculating gaze he’s used to. It’s just a little more stoned than usual. And that’s when it hits Dean. Castiel is  _ stoned _ and maybe a little drunk. 

Castiel chuckles, a light sound that Dean has never heard before. “Oh, Dean.” His name almost sounds  _ fond _ on Castiel’s lips as he looks at him with amusement. “Come, sit.” He adjusts himself on the mattress, sitting up and patting the space beside him, looking up at Dean expectantly. “I always enjoy our talks, Dean.”

“The hell happened to you, Cas?” Dean glances around the cabin and then deliberately over the clothes Castiel is wearing. He’d called Castiel a hippy earlier and Castiel had just brushed it off with a “I thought you were over trying to label me”, assuming he was still  _ his _ Dean before actually giving him a good look. But now, Dean really thinks Castiel might be one. “Meditation? Crystals?” Dean nearly scoffs at the sight of them. “What are you some love guru now?”

Castiel just chuckles again, a pleasant sound that makes Dean’s entire body flush with warmth. The depths of his eyes are twinkling with so much amusement and Dean finds it hard to connect this man with the angel he knows. 

And that’s it, isn’t it? It strikes Dean then like lightning. 

“You’re human, aren’t you?” 

“Bingo.” Castiel clicks his tongue and snaps his fingers, even going as far as to wiggle his thick eyebrows. 

“How did that… What happened, Cas?” Dean finds himself circling the bed to crawl onto it beside Castiel. He has questions and Castiel doesn’t seem to have any issue answering them. As he kicks off his boots and settles down beside him, a good foot of distance between them, Castiel explains. 

“The angels left and locked up heaven.” Castiel shrugs and takes another sip of his drink. “I’m cut off from the host. It didn’t happen right away. More so over time I just started to…” He hums and waves a hand around in the air. “Fade. Now I’m powerless.”

Dean furrows his brow. “So what? Now that you’re human you’re just jaded and stoned?”

“Essentially.” Castiel seems to find that funny and hides his smile in the rim of his glass.

“The fuck happened to you, Cas?”

“Life.” He finds that amusing too and has to bring his glass away from his mouth as he starts a fit of husky giggles, his entire torso shaking from the force of them. 

Dean’s not sure what’s so funny but he’s also the sober one here. Wow, he never thought that’d be a thing with Castiel. He drops his gaze to his own glass while Castiel tries to control himself. Well, while in Rome or whatever right? Dean brings the glass to his mouth and takes a tentative sip. 

“Christ, Cas.” Dean grimaces at the taste and the way it makes his throat burn. 

“It only burns the first couple of sips.” Castiel assures him, giving his arm a pat before pulling away. 

Dean rolls his eyes but takes another sip because why not? He’d rather not be hungover for tomorrow but a little bit can’t hurt, right? He’s downed half the glass before he starts to feel it. And once he does, whoa boy. He puts the glass down immediately and decides that’s enough for him. The edges of his vision go fuzzy and the entire room just seems to fade away. He almost feels like he’s floating and everything is moving in slow motion. Dean has no idea what Castiel gave him but whatever it was, it’s strong as fuck. 

“See? It’s nice, isn’t it, Dean?” Castiel’s voice is deep, husky and a lot closer than Dean expected it to be when he speaks up moments, hours?, later. 

Dean jerks to the side, or well, he tries to but his body seems to have other ideas. His head turns rather sluggish and he finds he’s sunk further down the mattress and the warmth against his right shoulder is in fact Castiel. 

“The hell was in that?” His mouth feels weird when he talks but his words don’t seem to slur. His lips are tingling and his tongue feels like a heavy weight in his mouth. 

“Alcohol.” Castiel states. “In its purest form.”

Dean is used to drinking. Hell his body is used to taking a lot of alcohol but this shit seems to have quickly knocked him right on his ass and who knows how many glasses Castiel had before he showed up. He doesn’t look as affected as Dean feels but Dean is starting to understand why Castiel acts the way he does if he’s stoned on this shit all the time. 

“What did you want to talk about, Dean?” Castiel’s voice is lower, not quite a whisper, but soft and near his ear. Dean’s skin tingles from how close Castiel is to him now. They’ve been close before because Castiel never understood the concept of personal space but this is… Dean’s the one who has slumped into Castiel’s space and the former angel doesn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, if Dean’s head wasn’t swirling so much, he might be able to focus on the fond, affectionate way Castiel is looking at him. 

“It’s a suicide mission.” He says through numb lips. “But you know that, don’t you?”

Castiel hums softly. “What did you call it once?” Dean can hear the smile in his voice. “Blaze of glory? Going out with a bang? The Dean Winchester way.”

Dean crinkles his nose but finds it hard to tilt his head enough to see Castiel’s face properly. Right now all he can see is the length of Castiel’s body and the jut of his collarbone peeking from the hem of his shirt. “And you’re okay with this.”

“What year are you from again?”

“2009.”

“Right.” Castiel makes a noise in his throat. “I haven’t died for you yet.”

That sparks alertness through Dean’s fog heavy mind. He only jerks slightly. “What?”

“Well, I can’t say that my past will line up with your future. In fact, seeing as you are here, the chances of this future still existing are greatly lowered. Whatever you learn here is certain to affect your future, thus turning my present into a nonexistent state. It’s quite fascinating when you think about it.” Well, sort of the same Cas, Dean thinks.

“You…” Dean’s heart clenches tightly in his chest and it takes a lot of effort for him to sit up properly and turn his head to see Castiel’s face. Castiel has his eyes closed with his head tilted back against the wall but he’s clearly awake. “You  _ died _ for me?”

“Twice.” Castiel adds, one corner of his mouth curling in a small smile. He peeks open his eyes, slits of blue that level Dean with a stare he can’t begin to describe. Regret, however, is not something he sees at all.

“ _ Twice _ ?” Dean’s breath catches in his throat and his head starts to spin just a little bit. Castiel  _ died _ for him? When? How? Can he prevent that too? But surely the situations are going to be different. Surely he can fix this. Surely he can make sure his Cas doesn’t… There’s gotta be a way. 

“Whoa.” Castiel says suddenly and warm strong hands grip either of Dean’s shoulders. “Perhaps telling you that wasn’t wise. Here, lay down.” His hands are gentle as he helps Dean lay down flat on his back with his head in a pillow. The world is still spinning but he feels less like throwing up. “It’s your future. I thought the more you knew, the better. The less chance of it happening. Your past can’t be changed but your future is still undetermined.” 

Dean takes a minute to breathe through his nose with his eyes closed. Even his emotions feel sluggish but they’re still sharp against his insides and he doesn’t want to think about his Castiel dying. That’s not even something he’s considered. He’s an Angel after all. It should take a lot for him to die.

“Were you an Angel?” Dean finally asks after a few moments. By then, Castiel has settled to lay down beside him, both hands folded over his stomach while Dean’s hands rest uselessly at his sides “When you…?”

“Both times.” Castiel answers without hesitation. 

Fuck, Dean’s going to be sick. “How are you…?”

“We never really figured that out. I thought it was my father but you…” Castiel makes a soft sound with his mouth. “Well, it’s clear at this point that my father is long gone.”

“Dead beat Dad’s.” Dean almost muses. “I feel you on that one, Cas.”

“You said that to me before.” Castiel almost sounds fond. The cabin is so silent that Dean can hear each breath that Castiel takes. Or maybe that’s the absinthe. 

“So you died. Twice.” Dean tries to keep his thoughts straight but it’s a little hard with the warmth of Castiel’s shoulder against his own. It’s the only place they’re touching but it’s a nice place, feels really nice. “For me.” Castiel makes a noise of confirmation. “ _ Why? _ ”

Castiel is quiet for a moment and Dean lets him have that time. He would like to be able to feel his body properly again but he’s not sure that’s going to happen for a few hours. He could probably sleep like this, wouldn’t mind doing so really. 

“I believe in you.” Castiel finally answers, his husky voice pulling Dean back into the world of the living. “2009, hm? A few months after Lucifer was released from the cage?”

“Yeah.”

Castiel hums again. “I believed in you, Dean. Back then, and now. I always believed in you. I ran from heaven for you.”

Dean nods his head, the fabric beneath his head shuffling. “I know.”

“I did a lot more for you that you don’t know.” For a second, Dean thinks he feels Castiel’s warm fingers brushing over the exposed skin of his arm but then that feeling is gone, leaving tingles in its wake. Dean can’t even seem to find the strength to lift his head to find out if that touch was real. 

“Because you believe in me?” Dean scowls even with his eyes still closed. “Lotta good that did, huh? Look at this fucking mess I got us into.”

“Now you sound just like him.” Castiel doesn’t sound amused for once. In fact, there’s little emotion to his voice at all. “‘Why are you still here, Cas? You see this shit? I did this.’” Dean’s chest goes tight at those words, knowing they’re something his future-self has probably said multiple times. Even Castiel sounds a little upset at those words. “I don’t regret the steps I took, Dean. I’ll tell you that as many times as needed to get through that thick skull of yours.”

“But I failed Cas.”

“You took the long way around.”

“I lost  _ Sam _ .”

This time, Dean is certain the fingers that wrap around his wrist are real. “You didn’t lose Sam. Not yet, Dean.”

Not yet. Now those are the exact words Dean needs to hear. This future isn’t set in stone. Dean can still  _ change _ it. He can still save Sam. He can still stop the apocalypse. He can make sure this future never happens and Castiel never ends up like this. He can make sure he never turns into the man he left behind in the other cabin. 

Castiel’s touch is a lot more calming than he expected it to be. The skin on his fingers and palm are a little rough with calluses which just further proves how  _ human _ Castiel is now. He’s been shooting guns. He’s been fighting for his life just like everyone else. No wonder he turned to drugs and alcohol. Dean imagines becoming human after being an all powerful celestial being takes quite the toll. 

“I’m not gonna let this happen.”

“I know, Dean.” He can feel Castiel shift around on the bed beside him. “But, it hasn’t all been bad.”

“Bobby’s dead.” Dean swallows hard against the emotion crawling up his throat and blinks his eyes open. The ceiling isn’t swirling as much as before and when the turns his head to the side, he’s not even surprised to see Castiel already facing him, curled up on his side with one hand still resting on Dean’s exposed wrist while the other is curled against his own chest. Castiel glances away at his words, something almost like regret flickering across his face. He looks more human in this moment than he ever has before and it strikes Dean to his core. 

“We’ve lost many.”

“You’re gonna lose more tomorrow.” Dean points out, unable to look away from the way Castiel’s dark eyelashes brush against his skin. 

“I’ve come to terms with that.” And Castiel looks like he has because when he finally meets Dean’s eyes again, there’s nothing there but acceptance. He’s ready to die and Dean hates that look on him. 

They’re so close that Dean can see the purest blue of Castiel’s eyes and count every eyelash if he so wanted. The light is still dim, flickering over Castiel’s lightly tanned skin and as human as he looks, he’s still so damn gorgeous it makes Dean’s stomach twist. 

“Humanity doesn’t look so bad on you.”

Castiel snorts softly at his words, a fond smile curling to his lips as he squeezes Dean’s wrist. “Forgive me. I’m used to being close to you at this point in time.”

Now, that’s an interesting thing. Carefully, cautiously, Dean twists his wrist. Castiel starts to release his grip, not even looking disappointed at having to let go but Dean snatches up his fingers before he has the chance. Now Castiel does look a little surprised but he allows Dean to fold their fingers together until they’re holding hands. He’s curious. He wants to test something. This isn’t his Cas, but, it’s some version of his Cas, right? He just wants to see. 

An affectionate, tender smile curls to Castiel’s full lips and he relaxes against the bed, curling his fingers with Dean’s so they are properly holding hands. 

“You’re used to being close to me huh? What happened to personal space?”

Castiel snorts again. “What personal space?”

Very interesting indeed. 

Dean isn’t sure how long they’ve been lying there. It feels like a few minutes but at the same time it feels like hours and his sense of time is way off thanks to the absinthe. He can still feel it flowing through his system, making everything a little softer on the edges. Like he’s floating. It really is a nice feeling and with Castiel touching him, holding his hand, it feels even nicer. 

Dean’s a lot of things and sometimes he can be a coward. But right now, there’s nothing stopping him from just  _ asking _ . 

“Cas?”

“Hmm?” Castiel seems preoccupied with counting the freckles dotting over Dean’s nose and cheeks.

“Did we ever…?” His throat closes up and Dean guesses that’s about all he’s going to manage to get out.

Castiel’s eyes shift up to meet his once again. “Why do you ask?”

Dean shifts awkwardly beside him. “I don’t know. Just seems like… it could be a thing.”

For a moment, Castiel looks confused before he seems to realize what Dean is trying to ask. “It took you three years.” Well that’s… Yeah. Wow, okay. Three years? “You look surprised.”

Dean shrugs one shoulder. “Didn’t think it’d take me that long.” Castiel’s eyes widen slightly and Dean takes the time to roll over onto his side to face him while Castiel’s stunned. Their hands remain locked between them. “But I guess I was preoccupied with the whole apocalypse thing.”

Castiel blinks a few times before he licks at his lower lip and shifts a fraction closer. “Is it really something you’ve considered in 2009?”

“No.” Dean shakes his head. “Not really? I mean, in my time, you and I are still figuring each other out. I’ve just started to trust you.” He perks a brow. “Plus angel and all that.”

Understanding melts over Castiel’s face. “Angel or not, I can still feel things.”

“Yeah?” Dean hums. “I’ll remember that. But when did you really… you know?” 

A fond smile curls over Castiel’s lips, a smile Dean would really like to see on  _ his _ Castiel. “An angel once said to me, a long time ago,” He chuckles lightly, “that I was doomed the moment I laid a hand on you in hell.” His smile grows, bunching his cheeks and showing off his teeth, making his eyes crinkle and sparkle. “She wasn’t wrong.”

Oh. Wow. Holy shit. Instinctively, Dean pulls his hand out of Castiel’s grip so he can rest his hand over the mark on his left shoulder. Castiel’s eyes zone in on it almost immediately and the knowing smile on his lips makes Dean’s entire body feel like goo. 

Something desperate claws up Dean’s throat and he sits up before he’s thinking too hard about it. He shoves off the loose flannel he’s wearing and tosses it to the side before he lays back down, left in nothing but a grey t-shirt. Castiel catches on quickly, rubbing his palm up Dean’s exposed arm and sending goosebumps in his wake. 

Dean finds himself unable to look away from those intense blue eyes as Castiel’s fingertips slip beneath the sleeve and shove it upwards. As soon as his hand covers the scar he left behind, Dean closes his eyes with an intense shiver. Maybe it’s the absinthe, or maybe it’s something more, but having Castiel touch the scar he left behind on Dean’s body is nearly overwhelming. But it feels  _ good _ . 

“So we really…?” He can’t seem to find the right words to just say it. It’s like he’s afraid it’ll become way too real if he speaks it. 

“Yes.”

Dean furrows his brow. “But didn’t I,  _ he _ ,” He crinkles his nose, “Spend last night in Jane’s cabin? And what about Riza? And you were going to have a fucking orgy?”

Castiel laughs, a light, airy sound and squeezes Dean’s shoulder. “It’s 2014, Dean.”

Dean doesn’t like the way Castiel says that. “So we’re just what, fuck buddies?”

That seems to surprise him slightly. “I… wouldn’t say that. We’ve…” He hums and glances away in thought. “We know what we are and we’re comfortable with it.” Well, that answers literally fucking nothing. It must be written all over his face because Castiel sighs and slips his hand free from under Dean’s shirt. “Maybe you should ask him.”

“Yeah, that’s not happening.” The less time Dean spends with his asshole future self, the better. 

He’s not ready to stop touching Castiel so he catches his hand again, curls their fingers together like before and the sweet smile on Castiel’s face is pretty worth that. 

“I just… It’s good, right?” Dean ducks his head slightly, shortening the small distance between their faces. “Like, he’s good to you?”

Castiel blinks in surprise at the question but ends up chuckling. “We’re good, Dean. Don’t worry about me.”

Well, that’s a relief. “And you’re going to follow him to his death.”

“I’d follow you to the ends of the universe, Dean. I’ve come this far, haven’t I?” He squeezes Dean’s hand, as if he’s willing Dean to understand. Even his gaze is open and swirling with emotions. A human Castiel is really something Dean doesn’t know how to handle.  _ You _ , he said. Not  _ him _ .  _ You. _

“Can’t imagine I’m worth that, Cas.” The words come out like a dead weight between them. 

Castiel sighs through his nose and presses close enough that their noses brush together. It sends sparks through Dean’s entire body. He’s used to being physically close to people. Women, usually. Women whose names he never remembers in the morning but this is  _ Castiel _ . 

Now, Dean knows he likes men. Not every body he brought back to random hotel rooms during that time Sam was in Stanford and his Dad was hunting alone were female. Dean’s an open opportunity kind of guy. If they’re hot, he’s game. It’s not something he’s  _ told _ people, however. Sam doesn’t know. At least, Dean doesn't think Sam knows. Kid’s pretty smart so Dean wouldn’t put it past him to have figured it out. Bobby doesn’t know and Castiel sure as hell doesn’t know. Not his Cas anyway.

This Castiel, however, knows.  _ Intimately _ . 

Which is just, what the fuck? Castiel? Really? It’s not nearly as surprising as he tries to make it out to be. The thought hasn’t flickered across his mind before but now that it’s there, it seems to want to stay. Nestles in the deep parts of his brain and makes a nest. 

“You still think you’re not worth saving?” Castiel breathes the words like a whisper. “You never grow out of that, you know?” He sounds almost bitter about this but when Dean opens his eyes, all he sees is blue; deep, beautiful, kind, open blue. “You  _ are,  _ Dean. You always were and always will be.”

Later, he’ll blame it on the absinthe. Later, he’ll convince himself he was caught in the moment and Castiel’s words didn’t overwhelm him to the point of pricking tears in the corners of his eyes. Later, he won’t tell a soul he was the one to close the distance between them and try to convince himself that he wasn’t the one to capture Castiel’s mouth with his own. 

But now, right now, Dean gasps from the warmth that blooms through him at the simple press of lips to lips and the way Castiel’s breath hitches in surprise. Is it too weird? Is it weird for Castiel to kiss a Dean five years younger than the one he’s used to?

Doesn’t seem like it because not even two seconds pass before Castiel is cupping Dean’s face between his strong worn hands and bringing their mouths together once more in a firmer kiss. Castiel kisses Dean like he’s done this a thousand times before and vaguely, Dean thinks he has. Castiel’s probably kissed the other Dean enough to learn a thing or two. 

But right now he’s kissing  _ him _ and holy fucking shit is it good. It’s not forceful or hard. No, Castiel kisses softly, gently, like he’s certain he might break Dean if he presses just too hard. Dean appreciates it but he’s not made of glass. He has no fucking clue what he’s doing, but he knows how to kiss and take someone’s breath away. He’s good at that.

Heat pulses through Dean’s veins as he pushes back against Castiel, deepening the kiss and curling his fingers over Castiel’s wrists. It takes little effort to get the former angel to release him and Castiel almost sighs in disappointment when Dean pulls their lips apart. 

But Dean doesn’t leave him waiting long. He dives right back in, capturing Castiel’s perfect plump mouth with his own and shoving him back into the mattress. Castiel grunts in surprise but doesn’t stop Dean from crawling over him, doesn’t stop Dean from settling on his knees between his spread legs, cupping his face, thumbs brushing over the shaggy stubble of his cheeks and kissing him like his life depends on it. 

Castiel tastes strongly of the absinthe they shared and something so human it makes Dean’s chest  _ ache _ . And Castiel gives as much as he takes. He digs one hand into the short strands of hair at the back of Dean’s neck, scraps his nails over the skin making him tingle and curls his other hand over Dean’s left shoulder, right over the scar. Castiel has no issue keeping up with the swipes of Dean’s tongue into his mouth and even makes soft little sounds when Dean licks  _ just right _ . 

It’s everything Dean never knew he wanted. 

“Well, Can’t say I didn’t see this coming.”

Hearing his own voice while his mouth is currently otherwise preoccupied is a little jarring. Dean jolts back, sitting up on his knees even with Castiel’s hands still on him. For a split second, Castiel almost looks disappointed before an amused smile curls to his lips and he lets his hands fall from Dean’s body so he can sit up on his knees properly. Dean’s panting, trying to catch his breath and his body is surging with a type of warmth and arousal he hasn’t felt in a long time.  _ Christ _ , what the hell did he just do?

Dean snaps his head to the side to find his future self leaning casually with his arms crossed over his chest against the wide door frame that separates Castiel’s bedroom from the rest of the cabin. He doesn’t look upset or anything. In fact, he even looks a little amused if the twinkle in his eye means anything. 

“I…” Dean can’t find his voice and he swallows down the lump in his throat. He can’t even begin to explain himself but he has a feeling he doesn’t need to. His future self is looking at him like he understands. Castiel is still just laying there, glancing between them with an unreadable expression on his face. 

“Seriously, Cas?” Future-Dean gives Castiel a frown that only makes Castiel smile all the more. 

“What did you say?” Castiel hums, dropping his hand to rest purposely on Dean’s thigh. “Last night on earth, might as well enjoy it?” Future-Dean only rolls his eyes but he doesn’t look angry. Maybe exasperated but not upset. “You could join us, you know.”

Dean flinches and quickly crawls off Castiel so he can get to his feet. “Yeah, no, I’m good.”

“Like you didn’t consider it.” Future-Dean snorts softly, pushing off the door frame to stand up straight and giving him a good solid once over. 

He’s not blushing. That’s not a thing Dean is doing. Dean Winchester does not fucking  _ blush _ . He sure as hell doesn’t blush when his future self is sort of hitting on him. 

“I’m gonna go. I should go.” He nods to himself and hurries around the bed to snatch up his flannel and slip it back on before shoving his feet into his boots. 

“Dean…” Castiel calls softly, sitting up finally and giving him a look that’s full of shit Dean doesn’t think he’s ready to deal with. 

“I’m good.” He assures Castiel once his boots are on properly. He tries to smile, he really does, and maybe he accomplishes that because the tense line in Castiel’s shoulders relax. “I should sleep. I’ll just go back to the cabin.”

Future-Dean just stares at him in that vacant way he has. “Yeah, don’t wait up for me.”

And that’s Dean’s cue to get the fuck outta Dodge. 

He gives Castiel a little wave which is returned with a sweet smile before Dean hurries off to leave the cabin. Before he slips through the beaded curtain, Dean dares a glance backwards toward them and he almost wishes he hadn’t.

He sees Castiel get off the bed and close the distance between him and Future-Dean. He sees the way Castiel smiles, soft, sweet, tender and just for  _ him _ , as he slips his arms around Future-Dean’s shoulders. Future-Dean’s hands immediately go to his hips, a solid hold and he whispers something Dean can’t hear but he can see the edge of a smile on his lips. The first one Dean has seen since he first ran into himself. Castiel’s smile grows and then both are hidden when their mouths connect. 

Dean swallows the lump in his throat and leaves them behind, his mind too full of shit he can’t straighten out at the moment. He’s got a lot to figure out but one thing is for sure, He might not have learned the lesson Zachariah wanted him to but he sure learned the most important one. 

* * *

One minute, Dean’s certain he’s about to be tortured to near death by an asshole angel and the next, he’s on the side of the road in the middle of seemingly nowhere with the sun peaking over the tips of the trees. He twists around so quickly he nearly trips over his own feet and when he sees Castiel standing there in his rumpled trench coat and ill fitting suit, Dean almost wants to cry in relief. 

“Great timing there, Cas.”

The hint of a smile curls in the corner of his mouth and he shrugs one shoulder. “We had an appointment.”

Castiel.  _ His Cas _ . The relief at seeing his angel is almost overwhelming. He looks clean and unharmed. His beard is shaven down to a light stubble and his blue eyes are calm and calculating. It’s hard to connect this Castiel with the one he’d drunkenly made out with. He’d much rather forget that was a thing that happened. They’re two separate beings. And Dean is grateful for that. 

“Cas.” Dean steps forward, closing the distance between them to curl a hand over the angel’s shoulder in a firm grip. “Don’t ever change, you hear me?”

Castiel tilts his head to the side with a curious squint. It’s always cute when he does that and Dean can’t help but laugh, shaking his head and giving Castiel’s shoulder a squeeze before he lets him go. His palm tingles from the touch. 

“I take it the future was not bright.” Castiel ponders aloud. “How did Zackariah find you?”

“Let’s just stay clear of Jehovah's Witness from now on, yeah?”

Castiel nods while Dean takes a second to find his bearings again, glancing around. They’re on the side of the road  _ somewhere _ and Dean vaguely remembers hearing traffic the last time he spoke to Castiel on the phone. He furrows his brow and glances at Castiel with a frown. 

“You been here all night?”

Castiel just blinks. “You asked me to wait.”

“I didn’t…” Dean almost laughs from how ridiculous his angel is. “Jeeze, Cas I didn't mean wait on the side of the road for hours.”

“I’m… sorry?” That cute head tilt again and Castiel looks unsure if he should be apologizing. 

Dean can’t help but smile. “Like I said, never change. But next time just, come to the hotel with us, okay?”

Castiel nods in agreement. “Do you know why Zachariah sent you to the future?”

Dean nods and digs around in his pocket to find his phone. “Yeah. Learn a lesson or some bullshit.”

“And did you?”

“Yeah, just not the one he wanted me to learn.” Dean flips open his phone and scrolls through the recent calls to find Sam’s number waiting for him. 

“Dean?” Castiel asks, softly, curiously, stepping closer to peer at his phone. A flicker of understanding crosses his features when he sees Sam’s name. “That bad, I see.”

Dean snorts. “Yeah.” He hums as he presses the call button and brings the phone to his ear. “Wasn’t all bad, though.” Castiel tilts his head again, giving that curious squint of his that makes Dean smile. He reaches over to pat Castiel’s shoulder once more as he listens to the line ring. “One good thing came out of that mess.”

This perks Castiel’s curiosity all the more but when he opens his mouth to speak, the line clicks and Sam answers. 

_ “Dean?” _

“I was wrong, Sammy.” It takes a lot for Dean to admit that but after what he’s seen, he figures it’s time to stop being so stubborn. He won’t be that man. “You and me against the world, right?”

_ “Dean…”  _ Sam sounds relieved and Dean’s heart flutters from how happy that makes him feel. 

“Where are you? Cas and I’ll come get you.”

Dean ends the phone call after getting Sams location, feeling a lot lighter than he did when he went to sleep last night. His sense of time is still kind of fucked up but he figures he’ll fall back into rhythm eventually. 

“We’re getting Sam then.” Castiel states, curling his hand over Dean’s shoulder, the same shoulder that still bares the scar of his hand. Only this time, Castiel is holding the upper part of his shoulder, ready to take off for flight to wherever Sam is. 

“Yup.” Dean turns to him with a soft smile. “We’ve got to stick together, Cas. I’m not letting that future happen.”

“I know you won’t, Dean.” And Castiel seems to believe it. Believe in  _ him _ . 

_ I always believed in you, Dean. _

Dean’s throat goes tight and his cheeks flare with a light flush. He should have considered how kissing future-Castiel might affect him when he got back home. Shit. It’s okay, he’s got other things he needs to focus on. 

“Not just me and Sam, Cas.” He lifts a hand to curl over the one Castiel has on his shoulder. Castiel’s eyes widen slightly at the touch. His skin is cool to the touch, unlike when he was human but Dean thinks he could get used to it. “You too. The three of us. And Bobby. We stick together and we can make sure what I saw in 2014 doesn’t happen.”

Castiel nods in understanding, a flicker of something in his eyes that almost looks like hope. But then his lips curl into a soft smile, so soft, barely even there but Dean sees it and it’s close to the smile he saw on future-Castiel. Dean gives Castiel’s hand another squeeze before he lets go and the world shifts into colors and feelings as they  _ fly _ .

Dean is certain he’ll get his Cas to smile like that some day and he’s more certain that as long as he, Sam and Castiel stick together, they can take on any monster or apocalypse looming over their heads. With Sam and Cas at his side, and Bobby too, Dean is certain he won’t become that broken man.

The three of them together? Unstoppable. 

**Author's Note:**

> I've always wanted to write something with Endverse Cas and present Dean. There was always so much potential for... something to happen between them. I know it's been done before but... This felt like a good place to start for my first destiel fic. So I threw this together and I like it. It feels nice. I have ideas for other stories, like a possible zombie Apocalypse au with the winchesters and a badass Castiel but those are just thoughts. I might peek my toe into this fandom again one day soon. Until then, thanks for taking a chance on me!
> 
> Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you thought with a kudo and/or comment because they really help out a struggling writer like myself. Much appreciated. I can't bring myself to respond to comments like I used to but trust me, I read and adore every single one! I will typically answer any questions you might have though!
> 
> See you next time!
> 
> ~Addy~
> 
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